User blog comment:SalemtheCruel/The Warmblood Games/@comment-25220117-20111013181542

''Ziguur scavenged through the wreckage of the ancient, rotting away timbers of what was once the very slave-ship that rid him of his life back in the Tropics. Some say that old memories can haunt you; yes, but he is one to haunt old memories. To tramp through them, remembering old foes and ancient battlegrounds. To tear through them, seeking once-personal items of long ago. But today he searched not for memories, he searched for flesh...Hunger is a great master and persuader, it's powers proven in every day history has ever-known. And from Hunger, comes Death, slinking through the shadows, watching, waiting for a chance to strike you down, to drag you to the underworlds of Hellgates, to tear you away from Life and it's Perilous Play. No matter where you are...Death is not one to help others. Ziguur smiles thinly at the thought. Death is one thing, and Fortune is another, as proven, right, about, now...He slid into a dune, his yellowed orbs watching, like Death, for their victim...Which was, as the reptile believed, coming right across the sea towards it...A squirrel upon a raft, a raft mad of splintered timber and rotted wood...A raft sailing towards Death's awaiting claws''